What A Twist!

As the rising tennis star and the actress were put into cuffs and loaded into the back of the police car, the private detective and his young impressionable assistant walked from the commotion, taking in the villa’s well manicured grounds.

“If I may, sir,” said the assistant after a time, “there’s one thing I don’t understand.”

“And what would that be?” the private detective said, stopping to smell a rose before resuming his leisurely stroll.

“Well, as you proved, she needed flashlights to go through the secret tunnel and knock off the butler, and he needed a remote control car to make off with the vase. And then there’d been the night before when they’d used the universal remote to drive the Duchess mad, changing the channel from outside her window. Which is to say nothing of the convoluted subplot of their communicating by way of rewired clapping monkey toys. And the walkie talkies, and the little pen-laser-pointer, and the small electric razor, and the–”

“You’re wondering about the batteries,” the private detective said.

“Yes! Precisely!” the young assistant cried. “You yourself said that they arrived with only 8 batteries: 4 AA and 4 AAA. And yet, it seems as though, during the several weeks they took to hatch their plan, that they had hundreds at their disposal!”

“Ah, but you see,” said the private detective with a flourish of the hand, “the batteries? They were of a Rayovac Rechargeable Set, and thus came with a charging station!”